


i never said i was a perfect person

by jasmiinitee



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: A Kiss, F/M, I DON'T EVEN KNOW YALL I JUST GOT SUPER UPSET THINKING IF THEY KILL JOAN IN SERIES 6, SO I KEPT HER ALIVE, Universe Alterations, and an endeavour era twist, but his boss is a slut, e morse is a disaster human whichever series you're watching, in advance in case of emergency, poor lewis is just trying to do his job, suck on that, that coffee date that never happened, the salt percentage just increases, we have an inspector morse era reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 21:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmiinitee/pseuds/jasmiinitee
Summary: years after the fact,‘Inspector Morse, is it?’‘Joan?’and years before that,‘Do you want to come in?’‘For coffee?’





	i never said i was a perfect person

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, Endeavour should just be dubbed "I made myself sad: the series".  
> Now I made myself fairly happy for a change.

‘Inspector Morse, is it?’  
He looked up from the Ashmolean break-in reports into a pair of big, round eyes. A woman stood in front of his desk, maybe in her late forties. A very familiar nose, dark curls on her shoulders, and a smile he had never had the time to forget.  
‘I found you,’ she said and looked tentatively proud of herself for that. ‘Though that Lewis boy helped a bit.’  
‘Joan?’ He scrambled up and pushed the papers away from his hands. She smiled and shrugged - smiled to him - standing there with a bag under her arm and a bright tomato-red jacket on, like he should have seen her coming. So strikingly different and still so familiar. 

She was in his office, what for? He offered his hand to her and she shook it firmly, bracelets jangling against each other. Was there a wedding ring on her other hand? He couldn't see one.  
‘What are you doing here? It’s been a while. Lovely to see you again,’ he said, unable to pick one half-greeting and stick with it, instead using all three.  
‘Detective work, is it?’  
‘Well, no- unless that’s what you’re looking for, of course.’  
‘No, God, don’t fuss about it. I just came to say hello since I was in town,’ she said. Her laughter lines were deep, and she looked like she’d received plenty of happiness over the years. (Morse was almost certain that his frown was permanent by now.)

‘It’s been a while,’ Joan said, echoing his words.  
‘Certainly,’ Morse said, but failed to come up with anything remotely intelligent. The past and present were threading each other into one too quickly. ‘You’ve got a fringe.’  
She laughed and brushed a hand through her hair. He couldn’t help but smile.  
‘And you’ve gone grey, you poor thing. Almost didn't recognise,’ Joan pointed out, and he scoffed. There was no arguing against that.  
‘With my line of work I think it’s to be expected, sooner or later. Don’t you agree,’ he said and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘At least I’ve still got hair - CS Strange is losing his by the hour.’  
‘Jim? He’s a superintendent?’  
‘Certainly.’  
‘In that case, his must be thinning because of you,’ Joan said and tilted her head. It was his turn to laugh.  
‘Quite possible, I think.’

And then the familiarity ended. Just the classical station on the radio, Verdi, filling their silence. She looked him up and down, and he had no idea what or who she was truly seeing, or if he was anything like the man she’d expected to meet in his office. Probably not.

A knock on the door brought with it a busy, bumbling Robbie Lewis. Damn his timing.  
‘Sir, I want you to -’  
‘Come on, sergeant. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation,’ Morse snapped, but snatched away the prints Lewis was shoving into his face. Details on who was working the shift at the time of the break-in. He threw the lists on the pile with the rest.  
Joan was holding back a laugh, and doing a very poor job at it.  
‘Ah, Joan, you said you already met Lewis? He’s my sergeant, and usually a man of some manners,’ Morse said and shot Lewis a glare. ‘Lewis, this is…’  
He actually didn’t know what her full name was now. Widowed? Married? Divorced? Joan smiled like challenging him to guess, but Lewis ruined that one, too.  
‘Yeah, Miss Thursday, how do you do. We came across in the hallway already, I came back from me lunch. Pointed her to your direction, sir. Was asking around for you, you see.’  
‘In fact, Lewis, I do, since she found me. As you can see,’ he said, but hearing Miss Thursday really threw him off.

‘Joan-’  
‘Morse, if you’re busy I should probably go,’ Joan said, squeezing her bag like people did when they were trying to leave. Lewis looked between the two of them, his face slack with surprise and realisation, and Christ how the boy was slow sometimes.  
‘We could meet later, sit down for a pint?’ he said before Joan had a chance to disappear. She pursed her lips and he hurried to offer something else. Anything else. ‘Or tea, or coffee. I could give you my number, here, take my card. I’ll have my home number for you too.’  
‘I think that would be a first,’ Joan said.  
‘First what?’  
‘You inviting me over for a cuppa.’  
For a moment Morse felt like he was standing outside her old door again, years ago, hesitating and denying an offer to step in. Her smile turned a bit dry and bland as well.  
He’d done that quite a lot more than had probably been good for either of them.

‘Should I go, sir?’  
‘Lewis, please, if you could,’ he said and nodded towards the door. Lewis snuck out like a very apologetic sheep, backtracking after accidentally escaping its enclosure. ‘I’ll fetch you when the one conversation I’m currently having is over!’

‘I’m sorry about him.’  
‘I’m sorry for him. Are you always like this?’ Joan asked and tutted, but there was humour in her voice. He took a deep breath.  
‘The way I’ve turned out, I’m afraid.’  
‘Don’t be. Old news, really.’  
‘Oh, is it?’  
‘Could have been worse, from what I remember,’ Joan said, gave him a knowing look, and was likely entirely correct in that. Luckily for the both of them, he wasn’t that far from having turned out all right, in the end. At least an all right inspector - in general, that was another thing.

She started to make her leave and he opened the door to her.  
‘I’m staying for a week, meeting some old girlfriends,’ she said.  
He nodded. Of course - a big city, a limited time frame, and a lot of old friends to meet. He was just one familiar face to check in on.  
‘All right, stop looking like that,’ Joan said and rolled her eyes. ‘You haven’t changed at all.’  
‘Like what?’ he asked and tried to return her smile. ‘You just told me how poorly I’ve aged.’  
‘I’ll give you a call tonight,’ she said, ‘if the offer really stands. For tea?’  
He should have been embarrassed by how glad it made him.  
‘Sure. Okay. Tonight sounds perfect. Around half-past six?’ he said. He’d have to drive home quickly to tidy up the place before her, but it was little trouble compared to the chance to sit down with her after all the years.  
She agreed and placed a friendly hand on his arm, and then she walked into the hallway. Morse leaned against the door frame as she left, and Joan gave him one last smile over her shoulder.  
He should have asked what she did nowadays - where did she live, with whom, was she happy, did she still volunteer? Was there ever a family? Had she travelled, had she studied or worked, and where?  
Then again, maybe it was better to hear those things somewhere that wasn’t his work.

‘Sir, sorry to have bothered you two.’  
‘Forget it, Lewis, no harm done,’ he said and shook his head.  
‘She family?’  
‘Not really.’  
‘Not really?’  
‘Could have been, once, I think. Now I don’t know who she is.’  
‘Ah, an old flame,’ Lewis said and grinned all too knowingly for someone who knew nothing about the matter. Him and his wife. Not everyone had the luxury of having an easy time with women.  
‘Did you have something worthwhile to tell me, Lewis, or are you going to bugger off and do your work?’  
‘Sorry, sir. I wanted to discuss one of the Ashmolean suspects,’ Lewis said and checked his papers. ‘A Mr Holly, works as a museum guide.’  
‘Right, come on in, then.’

***

‘Do you want to come in?’ Joan asked, bright red coat and bright blue eyes making him think of poppies and forget-me-nots and other sappy things, even in the dark. She looked a little sad, or just sorry for him, and he feared that he was the source of as much heartache in her life as she was in his.  
Morse glanced at her door, thought back on the pub, on Claudine and the whole mess. He didn’t want to meet her eyes. (Vietnam, really. Vietnam? That must have been the furthest a girl had ever ran away from him.)

‘For coffee?’ he asked Joan, looking a bit past her. It was something very dark and bitter that spat it up from his muddy thoughts. He didn’t even care for coffee that much - it was an easy way out for him and an easy trap for her.  
And Joan still smiled and nodded, and said: ‘Yeah, for coffee.’ She’d been hoping for something more or something less, clearly, but took the poor bait. 

He looked up with an awkward laugh. Her eyes were inviting and warm and bright even in the darkness of a falling night. He could have said whatever was on his mind, and Joan would have probably smiled all the same. Teary-eyed and betrayed if he really got rude, certainly, but she’d bounced back from so much worse already.  
He didn’t know if he would.

Something in the air shifted a bit, and in the dripping of the rain gutters, but he couldn’t name what it was. He shoved his hands into his pockets.  
‘I don’t… I think I’d prefer tea. But if you’ve got any,’ he managed without choking on his words.  
‘Better to marinate in that than beer, I’d say,’ Joan smiled with pity. He shrugged apologetically and nodded, and she started to fish out her keys.  
He followed her in, and when she turned around in the hall to face him again, she brushed straying rust-red curls away from his forehead. He leaned down to kiss her softly, on the corner of her mouth, just once.

She looked surprised, but not entirely disappointed; even if she did shake her head softly.  
‘Right. Let’s get you that cuppa.’

> I never said I was a perfect person  
>  I never mean the things that I say / or that I do  
>  You and I were destined for trouble  
>  Since you fell further out of my life / I’ve fallen apart  
>  To keep these memories from dying / You know I won’t stop trying  
>  How can I change for you? / How can I change for you?  
>  Mystic Braves - Perfect Person


End file.
